


The Standard Book of Spells - Incendio

by DaiquiriART



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Characters based off real world ice skaters, International wizarding communities, Multi, Other Wizarding Schools, Priorities over friendship in this fic, Slow burn that takes years and years, Younger characters will show up later, friendship to romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-05 02:34:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11004171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaiquiriART/pseuds/DaiquiriART
Summary: A new age is dawning upon the wizarding communities across the world. It's to be swept up by the tides of time or to learn to ride high, but in order to do that, the international wizarding world needs to learn to lay down their differences first. Viktor Nikiforov, the newest European dueling champion from Durmstrang Institute, meets the youngest representative of Mahoutokoro Yuuri Katsuki in these unpredictable times.To start a fire, there must first be a spark.Introducing:The very first International Wizarding Tournament!





	1. The First International Wizarding Tournament

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note:
> 
> I’ve had this idea in my head for a while now regarding a sort of YOIxHP crossover, but I don’t think it’ll be a crossover in the sense where the HP characters play vital a roles in my plot.
> 
> So the basic idea is that our YOI cast members are all wizards, and Viktor is famous for being the world’s youngest dueling champion. Our young Yuuri’s importance will be revealed a little later on.
> 
> Believe it or not, the ‘First International Wizarding Tournament’ that this story starts with only serves the purpose of a set-up plot so we established some background information for our crew. The main story takes place in the future after Yuuri’s graduation from Mahoutokoro. :D
> 
>  
> 
> Viktor is 16, Yuuri is 12 as of chapter 1.

 

————————————————————————————  
****

 

Like from a dream, the representatives from Mahoutokoro arrived in a flourish of wispy clouds and fluttering petals. 

 

As the large navel vessel docks itself from the sky and into the Black Lake with magical lightness, the large stack of fluffy clouds it had been previously riding on dispersed in a gust of fragrant wind. Like the many other Hogwarts students crowding around the shores, hoping to catch a glimpse of the arrival of the other schools, Viktor clutched the furred collar of his cloak tightly when the heavy fabric whipped about in the wind. Several of the black robed students scurried about for their lost hats, scarves, or autograph papers, but none of that was of any concerns to the silver haired young wizard as he kept his eyes trained onto the fortress-like ship.  
  
Less like a war fortress and more like a castle, the jade white structure sat over the deck of the ship in a way that reminded Viktor of an entire palace, completed by the image of ornamental cheery trees in full bloom within what must be an entire garden at their front lawn.  
  
For a wizarding country that had been rather private on their international appearances, Mahoutokoro surprisingly knows how to make a magical entrance for events such as these.

 

“Now that’s what I would call an impressive entrance,” whistled Christophe, approaching to stand next to Viktor while the rest of the Durmstrang representative gathered on the magically enlarged dock.   
  
In the peripheral, Viktor can see Yakov growling something or another at some unfortunate student about punctuality, but he’s pretty sure even if everyone got off the black ship they came from on time they would still be waiting about until the Beauxbaton group has entered the castle.

 

Oddly enough, Madamn Baranovskaya seemed to intend on waiting for the Mahoutokoro group to disembark.

 

“Oh look, here they come!”   
  
Distracted from his musings, Viktor turned his head back towards the large jade ship. A sort of doorway appeared seamlessly from the smooth surface of the hull, and a singular flight of stairs descended from the ship itself until it neatly touched the wood of the dock.

 

Students backed up until they made enough room for the representatives of Mahoutokoro to arrive.

 

Faint flute music started from an unknown source, and Viktor found his eyes widening in surprise as color started to flutter out from within the gleaming white ship.   
  
Fluttering like the pale pink petals already in the air, witches and wizards with stunningly colored robes _glided_ along the stairs to the dock. The colors ranged between a pink of the same kind as the flowering trees to varying shades of orange and yellow, and Viktor wondered if the colors are segregated by school grades or something else.  
  
“Looks like the rumor that Mahoutokoro students have magical uniforms is true,” said Christophe, who is leaning on his staff a little, sighing wistfully. “Why can’t _we_ get fabulous color changing capes or something, Viktor?”  
  
That earned a quiet laugh from Viktor. He’ll admit though, he _would_ look fabulous in pink.

 

Since they were the last school to arrive, but certainly still well ahead of schedule, Headmistress Okukawa shared one meaningful nod with Madam Baranovskaya before both of their groups of representatives started heading into the Hogwarts castle.   
  
“I suppose we’re going too,” Viktor noted, as Yakov shouted one last thing at the last lagging student before they too, fell into formation and started marching.

 

It is an impressive sight, really. All around them are faces from so many different cultural backgrounds, all converging towards the castle of one of the most historically intense wizarding schools of all ages. Wizards and witches, all of student ages from almost all qualifying magical schools around the world, gathered under one common goal:  
  
The first ever International Wizarding Tournament was about to begin.

 

 

————————————————————————————

 

 

“Did you see him, Yuuri? DID YOU **SEE**?” 

 

Wincing at the incredible pitch Yuko just screeched into his ears, but wearing a grin that wouldn’t lose to hers, the youngest representative of Mahoutokoro nodded frantically as his childhood friend clutched at his arm like a lifeline.   
  
It had been such an honor when Yuuri was permitted to accompany the Mahoutokoro team to the International Wizarding Tournament. It is a monumental event for the wizarding world in any country. The very first time that the International Confederation of Wizards have pulled together to execute what would hopefully be a significant event in bridging cultural and magical cooperation and friendly competition between the countries. With the rapid growth of the non-magical population, wizarding world have realized that they must join together to ensure the continued, peaceful existence of their kind. As war with the non-magical kind would be ill-advised and also likely fatal, it was agreed in the Conference two years ago that the first step of acclimating to the modern world would be to iron out any folds in their own communities first.

 

Of course, being only twelve, the larger significance behind the event was mostly lost to Yuuri, but he does understand that he is very privileged that Minako sensei thought he is worthy to join the junior level students in their one-year observational project of international wizarding relationship and magic while the senior-level students have their chance to compete under Mahoutokoro’s name. 

 

Not to mention, he got to have a chance at seeing Viktor Nikiforov in the flesh.   
  
“He is even better looking in real life,” Yuko sighed dreamily, relaxing her vice grip on Yuuri’s arm ever so slightly. “I wonder if I’ll get to ask for an autograph. Does my hair still look okay?”

 

Before they disembarked from the atakebune, she had fussed endlessly about the state of her hair and her robes. Minako sensei wanted them to present themselves with grace, but Yuko wanted to look good just in case they got to meet Viktor.  
  
Yuuri didn’t blame her. If he thought he could actually fix up the way he looks for Viktor, he probably would too.

 

“Your hair is fine, Yuko chan. And yes, I _also_ think he looks better in real life than the posters,” Yuuri awkwardly offered, finally feeling up to sharing his opinions -gushing- without his voice cracking. When they were at the dock, he could’ve swore that he saw Viktor look their way, but they weren’t about to turn around and stare back when it’s Mahoukotoro’s reputation on the line.

 

Takeshi rolled his eyes at them, walking a little ahead of them since he’s one of the taller boys. “Don’t fall behind,” he groused, shoulders squared and clearly trying to look taller than he is as the castle approaches them from the end of the green, green lawn.

 

The western styled castle of Hogwarts is every bit the kind of fairytale castle that the books said it would be, and Yuuri could barely feel his usual nervousness in new places when he is so overwhelmed by the sheer _history_ behind the stony walls. He is going to have to take some pictures to send home for sure.

 

Minako sensei looked back to check on their procession when they arrived at the castle gates, where one of the Hogwarts professors led them to an empty waiting room. They were to wait and recollect themselves before they can be formally introduced at the welcome feast.   
  
“You juniors doing alright back there?” Minako sensei asked, sounding wholly amused even though her expression stayed professional for the prying eyes. She was wearing her golden Mahoukotoro robe as the overlayer of her kimono ensemble, hair done up and looking entirely like one of the celestial maidens from paintings of old. Yuuri thought she looked absolutely divine, and when he had told her that back in the ship, she squeezed his cheeks fondly.

 

“Yes, sensei,” the junior students chorused, all bundled up in their varying shades of pinkish robes and hakama trousers. They don’t normally wear full traditional gear in school, but once again, they’re supposed to really put up a show for the entrance.   
  
“Good, we’re going to wait in here with the other schools until they introduce us. Make sure you’re polite with the other kids, got it?” she instructed, as though they aren’t all already aware of their expectations and responsibilities as representatives.  
  
Just for her sake, all the students repeated their response with knowing smiles. Minako sensei can try to act stern all she wants, but all the students have more or less associated her with something like a mother figure in their time boarding in Mahoukotoro.

 

The doors to the waiting area opened just as the students started to go over their entrance routine one more time, and Yuuri looked up hopefully from where he and Yuko were convincing Takeshi to stop sulking so they can practice too.

 

Red robes in synchronized steps marched into his vision, and he felt Yuko’s constricting grip back on his arm again along with a little gasp. The Durmstrang students filed into the room in a neat, orderly row as their headmaster talked briefly with the same Hogwarts professor from before.   
  
But Yuuri wasn’t paying any attention to that.

 

Not when Viktor is less than fifty meters from him as the Durmstrang students waited in ranks.   
  
From where he is standing, frozen with what felt a little like either mortal fear or a bad run-in with the petrification spell, Yuuri got a good look at the way silver hair flutters like the tail of a comet as Viktor conversed with a blond student next to him.

  
Viktor laughed at something the blond student said, and Yuuri forgot to breathe.  
  
“Tsk. Why is he the only one with long hair when all the other Durmstrang students have military cuts?” Takeshi scoffed, instantly achieving the goal of having Yuko’s full attention directed back to him. However, it was not the positive kind of attention as Yuko launched off into an angry, whispered rant about a hundred of Viktor’s most attractive traits. A good quarter of that list revolves around her obsession with Viktor’s hair.  
  
All of that faded into soft buzzing sounds to Yuuri when Viktor seemed to have noticed his staring.

 

Time froze when crisp, winter blue met burgundy, and Yuuri became distinctly aware that he really should be taking that inhale now.  
  
The silver haired wizard paused in his conversation, smiled with a little crinkle of his eyes that doesn’t show up in the smiles on the many posters he and Yuko collects, and waved cheerily at Yuuri.

 

_‘Oh good gods Viktor Nikiforov is waving at him! Him!’_

 

Flushing crimson, Yuuri ‘eep’d quietly and made an immediate effort to start looking at _everything_ except the gorgeous, talented, _powerful_ youngest Dueling Champion in the room.

 

 

————————————————————————————

 

 

“Aw, look, they brought their younger students with them. That’s so cute. Why don’t we do that?” Viktor cooed indulgently, as the shy little Japanese student started frantically evading eye contact with him.   
  
Christophe laughed. “I think they have a mentoring system in Asian schools,” he explained, much to Viktor’s delight. It would be so cute to have little underclassmen hanging around him! Viktor would be such a good mentor, he just knew he would be.  
  
Turning to Yakov, the gleam of a ‘good idea’ bright blue in his eyes, Viktor opened his mouth to start his proposal-  
  
“No.”  
  
Viktor blinked, and then pouted. “But Yakov! You were always saying the younger students aren’t respectful to their elders enough. What better than to have them learn from older students? It would be cute!”  
  
Severe looking as he might be, Headmaster Feltsman’s intimidating effects are mostly lost at the face of his brightest student. Talented and fearless might be a good combination of traits in any other wizards, but Viktor Nikiforov has been a cause of rapid hair loss since the day he enrolled into Durmstrang.  
  
“Viktor, I was explicitly referring to _you_ when I said that. Like hell I’ll bring our younger students half way across Europe when I have to wrangle you daily already,” Yakov scoffed, apparently making an effort to _not_ shout since they’re in a room with another school.  
  
“Now shut up and be prepared for our turn when it comes,” he added, already turning away to talk to Greorgi.

 

Viktor’s pout exaggerated some more.

 

————————————————————————————

 

The Durmstrang Institute was introduced second to the last out of all the attending schools. The students carried out their traditional march into the hall clad in red and miniature snowstorms, performing a hefty dose of ice magic as each rhythmic thud of their staffs left a fractal stamp of ice that grew with each additional stamp. The chilling exhibition was extremely well received, seeing how it ended with the famous Viktor Nikiforov skating into the Great Hall on a pair of blades made from ice, leading with him a twin pair of eagles made of snowflakes that are strangely not cold. 

 

However, not to be outdone, the next time the doors to the Great Hall bursted open with the introduction of Mahoukotoro, the lingering magical snowflakes in the air all bursted into pink cherry petals. They were soon joined by more and more petals flowing in from the doorway until they started to converge into groups. Mahoukotoro senior level students materialized from the clusters of petals one by one, radiant in their almost golden robes as they glided to the front of the room. The junior level students followed in after on foot, not yet able to perform the kind of complex magic the Great Hall had just witnessed, but they were all holding fans and doing an elaborate dance around their senior counterparts until the cherry petals are gathered and seemingly absorbed into the pink of their robes.   
  
The Hogwarts students watching started clapping loudly, clearly charmed by the many amazing displays of magic they had witnessed in such a short time.

 

The cheering continued for a long time, the students finding it difficult to be quiet even as the Hogwarts headmistress McGonagall approached the podium. The congregation of students could only be fitted into the Great Hall after it had been enlarged about five times its usual size, providing additional tables for each school to sit in amongst the students and staff. 

 

It spoke volumes of Headmistress McGonagall’s authority in the school when, with just a single hand half-raised, the entire population of Hogwarts student trickled into anticipatory silence. The rest of the guest schools obviously followed suit, all turning to look expectantly at the respected witch. 

 

“First of all, I would like to extend the warmest welcome to our international neighbors on behalf of Hogwarts,” she began, voice magically amplified to fill the whole room as she nodded gracefully at the various tables around the Great Hall. 

 

The various headmasters and headmistresses around the room nodded back graciously.  
  
“It is an absolute honor for Hogwarts to be the host to the very first International Wizarding Tournament, a step that will no doubt begin many life-long friendships and friendly rivalry for the wizarding community on a global scale.

 

A great man once told me that we are the strongest when we stand together, and I find myself agreeing even now. At the risk of sounding too sentimental on the eve of such a grand event, I must say that our late Headmaster Dumbledore would have been very proud of the progress we are all making tonight.”  
  
Obligatorily, there were smatterings of clapping around the room before she continued.  
  
“As they have been introduced, the International Wizarding Tournament will have seven wizarding schools participating: Hogwards, Beauxbatons, Ilvermony, Castelobruxo, Uagadou, Durmstrang, and Mahoutokoro.

 

A special artifact approved by the Confederation has been prepared to produce an impartial judgement on which three students will be selected from each school as their representing team for the Tournament, who will then participate in seven tasks both individually and as a team.”  
  
A pair of wizards from the ministry stepped up from the side, carrying a heavy looking dark stone tome, and after tapping their wands as one, the tome dissolved down to a pedestal height to reveal a hovering obsidian tablet of unknown age.

 

“The Tablet of Destiny has been chosen and modified for the purpose of the Tournament. As there is an age restriction for participants to be of the age of 17 or will be turning 17 before the year is over, an age line will be set up around the Tablet for the next week, the time which will also be allotted for our international students to adjust to the schedule here in Hogwarts as they will be attending classes amongst us this year.

 

Any interested student may etch their name onto the tablet as a submission of intent, but please be aware that similar to the European Triwizard Tournament, the contract is as magically binding as the tasks will be difficult and dangerous. Please heed my warnings now that this is not for the weak of heart nor of strength.”  


The Great Hall is still silent as everyone’s eyes are zeroed at the floating tablet on the stone, illuminated in an eerie purple-black light that seems to come from within the tablet itself.   
  
“The victorious team will be history makers in this dawning age of international relationships, and they will also be bestowed in eternal glory and prizes for both themselves and their school and country. From the bottom of my heart I wish you luck, young ones, and here is to a year of fulfilling international friendship and growth.”  
  
With a flourish, the headmistress waved her arm over the podium, and suddenly all the various plates on the dining tables are filled with scrumptious looking cuisines from across the world. The students all clamored in delight, and at once, chattering began from all directions as some braver Hogwarts students left their house tables to introduce themselves to the other schools. The rest, preoccupied with the new information their heads had just absorbed, took to eagerly guessing who from their houses would be etching their names onto the tablets.

 

————————————————————————————

 

“Oh, wow! This is fantastic!” Viktor cried happily, polishing the respectable mountain of food from the plate before him, the speed and mannerism of which he eats with a clashing mismatch with each other as the meal steadily vanished.   
  
Chris couldn’t help his amused smile as he watched his best friend devour enough food for a hipppgriff while blurting out the occasional ‘ _vkusno!_ ’ and ‘ _fantastika!_ ’n loud enough that he can be heard even over the din of the Great Hall.  
  
All around them, many curious students from various schools are peering hopefully at their way, but if Viktor wasn’t acknowledging them yet, neither would Chris.

 

Across the table, Georgi Popovich leaned over to get their attention, delicately avoiding an elbow-to-goblet collision as the Durmstrang students are all kind of crowded together. “The headmaster mentioned that we should go ahead and register our names onto the tablet as soon as we can,” he relayed, glancing over to the teachers’ table at the front of the hall, where Yakov can be seen dining somewhat awkwardly next to Lilia.   
  
Viktor finally stopped eating, just long enough to also direct his gaze thoughtfully towards their headmaster.  
  
“What’s the rush?” he asked, clearly nonchalant as he plucked another piece of the _exquisite_ tart from the shared plates. “We’ve got a whole week, it’s not like everyone doesn’t already know that most of us are going to be entering.”  
  
It was an innocent comment just from the outside. It had really seemed like Viktor genuinely didn’t see a need to rush and was asking a simple question, but Chris knows better.

 

They’ve been best friends since Chris enrolled into Durmstrang. Though he isn’t going to be able to participate in the tournament this year due to his age, he had mostly hopped on board to cheer his schoolmates on and to reap the additional benefits of a proper exchange program experience.  
  
“You’re going to put up a whole show and make Yakov cry about his hair again, aren’t you, _mon chéri_?” Chris found himself smirking, a rush of warmth low in his chest when he saw the way Viktor’s eyes lit up, happy at the recognized acknowledgement.  
  
Still, because Viktor is even more dramatic than the students at W.A.D.A., he faked an exaggerated gasp, pressed a hand to his chest in a perfect wounded expression, and cried.  
  
“Who? _A show_? _Me_?”

 

They shared a conspiratorial look with each other, and Georgi groaned. They’ll be lucky if Yakov doesn’t turn them all into chipmunks again as punishment. 

 

————————————————————————————


	2. The Youngest of Our Peach-Colored Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:
> 
> Many thanks for reading this story! c: 
> 
> Originally the plan to introduce these characters had been more impactive in my head. Fanciful demonstrations of magic, dazzling charms, etc. However, then I remembered something about YOI: the sweetest magic had been the deep, emotional bonds shared between our lovely characters.
> 
> As such, I decided to shine a bit of light on a character I rarely see in the spot: Takeshi Nishigori. 
> 
> I have always felt that Yuuri is who he is because of the solid foundation of friendship he has grew up warmly in, alongside his very accepting family. A bit of a bully or not, no child is bad for no reason, and I always felt that young Takeshi was perhaps suffering from self-esteem issues in his own way. That might explain how he's so fiercely supportive of Yuuri even in the future!

 

 

“My robe?”  
  
“Crisp and clean.”  
  
“Hair?”

“Looks nice!”  
  
“Got all our other stuff?”  
  
“Yes,” Yuuri laughed, shaking his head.  
  
They have been at this all morning, and out of the corner of his eyes he can see Takeshi tap his foot impatiently by the doorway where he stood sentinel over their preparation. Though Yuko seemed determined to ignore him as she did her final check in front of the full bodied mirror, adjusting her hair to perfection.  
  
On the other hand, Yuuri patiently held her bags and things for her while glancing at the clock on the wall.  
  
It’s just past seven in the morning, and though they had to take a sleeping draught the night before to make sure their bodies could readjust to the time difference between Japan to Scotland, waking up early hadn’t been as much of a difficult task as the Mahoutokoro students were dreading.  
  
For most of them, it’s the first time they travelled internationally. It was certainly Yuuri’s first time. His family ran a wizarding hotspring establishment back in Hasetsu, a small wizarding community that Yuko and Takeshi also came from along the glittering coast of the Saga Prefecture. There was never really a time for them to take a vacation and close down the resort. They don’t do bad business, but never well enough to afford slack for the whole family, especially now that both he and Mari are in school and unable to help out with the inn.  
  
“We should probably get going though, Yuko chan,” Yuuri suggested, casting another glance at Takeshi’s frustrated, but unmoving figure by the doorway as he stood sentinel for their preparations. “You look pretty, I’m sure today will be fine.”  
  
How strange it was that Yuuri is the voice of calm logic in a time like this. Generally he would be the one to be nervous about going to a new place, with new people, with _Viktor Nikiforov_ in the same general vicinity (or country).

 

However, seeing Yuko drag him out of bed at the crack of dawn in absolute panic about everything from her appearance to her school preparation, Yuuri found himself calming down surprisingly.   
  
Yuko inhaled sharply, eyes wide but her neatly arranged salmon colored school robe in perfect state as she looked away from the mirror. She nodded, fussed over Yuuri’s fluffy locks one more time before taking him and Takeshi by the hands.  
  
“Alright, first day at Hogwarts. Let’s go!”

 

 

————————————————————————————

 

 

Viktor vaguely recalled hearing something or another about Hogwarts having moving staircases before, probably from Christophe the _triviaman_ , but for the life of him he couldn’t quite remember anything else useful on top of that.  
  
Had there been additional tips about how to go about actually _using_ such magical staircases?

 

Was Viktor just supposed to stand here like a fool and wait until the stairs _look_ like they’re going to be agreeable about going where he’d like?  
  
Or… was it like that particularly troublesome Doorway to Everywhere back in Durmstrang, and he’s going to have to drop his dignity and beg?

 

Viktor breathed in, smoothly ran a hand over his steel silver fringes, and exhale towards the heavens for some sort of a sign.   
  
Hogwarts castle is beautiful for sure. Certainly a lot warmer than the Institution even in the summer months. The fuzzy blankets of protective enchantments casted over these centuries-old stones reminded him of the lullabies his mother would sing to him. If he wasn’t likely going to be late for class, thus dooming him for hours of lectures from Yakov and maybe even a _ban_ on visiting Hogsmeade later in the month, the usual Viktor would have found all this profoundly careful web of magic an interesting study.

 

A creak, followed by the sort of rumbling that comes from odd stones grinding against wood.

 

His eyes swiveled up when the stairs above him moved again for the third time since he stood here, _like a fool_. It’s a disorienting sight for sure, staring up seemingly into an eternity of dull underbellies of creaky old stairs, each branching out like the gnarly offshoot of some ancient tree beast. The moving portraits seem to spiral the further he squints upwards, until everything disappears into the artificial - _or was that real?_ \- skylight in specks of diluted color and white.  
  
How the hell is he supposed to make it to his classes this year if he can’t even figure out where ONE (1) singular set of stairs is supposed to to bring him to?

 

Deciding that he’s had enough of pondering and artful gazing about stairs like he’s a fanciful model for cameras the media sure likes to portray him as, Viktor sighed and stepped forward. Only one real way to figure out which floor the stairs will bring him to now, anyways.   


 

What could possibly go wrong?

 

 

 

“— **Wait**!!”

 

 

Stuttering to an awkward halt mid-step, Viktor covered up his slip with easy grace. Pivoting on his left heel, he spun around towards the direction of the voice with his most pleasant smile and a positively picture-perfect flutter of his long hair.   
  
He has been stopped almost by the hour ever since he got to Hogwarts, and while an ego stroke is always nice, it’s a little bit troublesome when he’s trying to conquer these blasted stairs and get to class on time.  
  
Hopefully they’ll leave him alone after he has sated them with whatever they wanted from him.

 

“Hello,” he greeted smoothly, all plastic smile and neatly concealed irk. “A commemorative photo?” he offered, because that seems to be the preferred modus of proving that someone was lucky enough to meet anyone famous these days. Then, he was supposed to autograph the thing.   
  
Viktor knows what the public expects of him, and he smiles the way they wants to see him smile.

  
“Uh.”

Viktor blinked. That had sounded far too surprised compared to his previous encounters.

  
A young boy, maybe ten or so, stood before him wearing the loveliest shade of sorbet peach that made his warm eyes _pop_. It was the littlest Mahoutokoro representative, fidgeting nervously and staring decidedly _through_ Viktor and not at Viktor, no doubt embarrassed.  
  
Viktor felt his smile soften a little around the edges.  
  
A shy fan, hm? He can work with that. He has been curious about their fellow representatives since yesterday’s introduction anyways, but he hasn’t really had the time to approach any of them. Even during breakfast time, the Mahoutokoro students travel in very orderly packs, seemingly organized in some sort of hierarchical group with at least one upperclassman present at all times. It’s rare to see the younger students wander about on their own.  
  
Said younger student is still apparently struggling to put his thoughts to words, and for a moment, Viktor wondered if the other spoke enough English to effectively facilitate communication between them.  
  
“Uh,” the small wizard started again, louder this time as his face started turning red at an worrisome speed. The boy was frantically shifting his gaze around, but there was a determined light in his eyes even as he squeeze the ever-loving-life out of the beautiful sleeves of his robes.

 

The robes are a beautiful peach to pink sort of gradient, Viktor noticed, decorated with what he can assume to be wisps of smoke or steam at the edges. It reminded him a little of the color of the sky’s edges during early dawn. 

 

“N-no- yes? Yes? But that’s not why I stopped you? But yes to the picture?” The boy managed, before huffing out a little breath as though immensely proud of what he has accomplished.  
  
Viktor laughed quietly, covering his mouth with a delicate motion of his gloved hand just to be polite. “Why are all of those questions?” he teased, mirthful.  
  
The child turned even redder, and Viktor would feel bad if it wasn’t so endearing. So maybe he likes to tease, hm. He learns new things about himself daily, wow! He is _definitely_ going to have to fuss at Yakov later about that mentoring program if it means he can get a little sibling-like figure to teach (and tease) all the time.  
  
With valiant effort that definitely deserves a good pat on the head, the young Mahoutokoro student shook himself out of what appeared to be temporary paralysis and continued speaking. “I just, didn’t want you to get on the stairs,” he mumbled, to the silver haired wizard’s confusion. But as though on cue, the stairs that Viktor almost stepped onto started creakily moved away from the platform they’re on.

 

Viktor also turned to stare, wide-eyed in surprise as the stairs _descended_ all of the sudden mid-change.  
  
If he had been on those stairs, he would have to spend another god-knows-how-long trying to find his way back to the fourth floor.  
  
“You knew?” he gasped, delighted and surprised all at once as he whipped his head back to the dark-haired wizard.  
  
“Y-yes. I’ve been watching them for a while,” came the reply. It seemed that when he’s focused on a topic the embarrassment goes away easier, and words flowed out smoother for the young foreign wizard who is surprisingly good with the English language. “It’s really a fascinating formula, but actually a very typical charm for space conservation. My family’s inn has something similar,” he babbled, eyes lighting up adorably. “Usually the effects of these charms rotates in patterns barring extra-circumstantial events, so you just have to recognize the patterns with a little bit of time. In fact, the west side stairs here on ground floor matches the rhythm of the east side stairs on all odd numbered floors and- “

 

The fledgling wizard flushed again, words suddenly silenced from his tongue, and Viktor arched an eyebrow.  
  
“-sorry! I was going on and on. I’m sure you already know all of that. Oh, I don’t know why I thought I needed to stop you. You probably knew where you needed to go-“  
  
Viktor laughed again, and this time, he didn’t bother hiding it.  
  
“Relax! It was very interesting. You really helped me out here, promise!” he chuckled, watching the younger wizard unfurl from the self-imposed hunch he talked himself into.

‘ _How very interesting!_ ’

  
Properly charmed, Viktor felt that proper introductions are in order, never mind that he’s probably going to be late to class. This Mahoutokoro student, so young in age, surprised him greatly in his magical knowledge and timely aid. 

 

Viktor _loves_ surprises.

 

“Viktor Nikiforov, from Durmstrang” he smiled, holding out his hand. The dark-haired wizard fumbled with his own limbs in a quiet squeak, before quickly clutching on in a firm shake.  
  
“K-Katsuki Yuuri, or uh, Yuuri Katsuki. I’m just one of the regular junior students from Mahoutokoro.”  
  
“Nice to meet you Yuuri, so how about that commemorative photo?”

 

————————————————————————————

 

 

Takeshi Nishigori was seven years old when he woke up one winter morning to the delighted shakes of his mother eagerly urging him awake, only to find breakfast consisting of grilled fresh fish and red bean rice, while a beautiful green pheasant bird perched on one of the guest seats and pecked at his breakfast.

 

His acceptance letter from Mahoutokoro arrived, and his mother couldn’t have been happier.

 

Takeshi is a half-blood, and though that alone in Hasetsu isn’t that unique, he had always assumed that he had no magical powers due to the lack of any manifestations since he was young. He always felt kind of bad about it, being the living proof that some of the prejudiced old wizards and witches in town might be on to something when they claim that his mother had ‘wasted good magical blood’ when she married.

 

His mother fell in love with a non-magical man when she was young, and they eloped from Hasetsu in a whirlwind of youth and romance. However, Takeshi’s father passed away from a work accident shortly after he was born, and his mother decided to end her life of secrecy in the non-magical big cities and move back to her home town with her young son.  
  
Takeshi kept his father’s last name, and showed no signs of being able to perform even the most meager magical task since birth.

 

Compared to his two childhood friends, the adored stars of a sleepy little magical community like Hasetsu, Takeshi lived with the acceptance that somehow, he always felt a bit _lesser_.

 

Yuko and Yuuri are great, really. They’re his bestest - _only_ \- friends, and they’re always friendly and never kept him out of anything. 

 

But Yuko and Yuuri are also the kids everybody absolutely _loves_. 

 

Yuko, with her energy and her bright smiles that already hinted at her future beauty, is extremely popular amongst the grocers whenever they ran errands for their families. 

 

Yuuri, smaller and rounder than the average six years old but pampered both by his family and all the associated patrons, is magnetic in his own adorably shy, disarming way.  
  
Then there is Takeshi. Not a bad child, but always a bit of a brute, always a bit ungainly.

 

Takeshi, who sat quietly in the shade of the tree in Yuko’s yard while Yuko and Yuuri laughed as they generated a tiny snow cloud between them, lightly covering the grass with powdery white. 

 

Takeshi, who- at the age of seven, sat holding the gold and pink scroll with his name unmistakable written in black ink, on a letter he had never expected to actually arrive—

 

Takeshi, who realized that he isn’t _great_ at magic or anything, but he’s not _bad_. He’s not lacking, and he’s just the same as the majority of the average ten years olds in day school.

 

Takeshi, who learned that he doesn’t like Yuko and Yuuri the same way he likes his other friends in school. There is a special childhood friendship, sweet and somewhat sticky in nature, but it was always so much more than that.

 

Takeshi, who took down an upperclassman with Yuko, for making fun of _their_ little Yuuri’s presentation on Gamp's law of elemental transfiguration, because Yuuri looked the verge of hurt tears. Because Yuuri had worked _hard_ , and so what if he stuttered and rambled so long that the teacher asked him to wrap it up? 

 

The two of them ended up with a month’s worth of detention, the worst any of the 12 years olds in their grade had seen yet, but it was worth it. Plus, Yuuri snuck in and helped them out every single day.

 

 

Takeshi, who was chosen as a junior representative of Mahoutokoro at age 13, found himself standing in startled stillness as the room around him suddenly plunged into silence.   
  
Slipped from his fingers, a single slip of paper fluttered into the cauldron before him and sizzled into nothingness.

  
Yuuri froze next to him, hands still opened with palms outwards from his attempt to save his precious autograph. His eyes went very wide and very glassy as his gaze dropped to the bubbling content of the large pot.

 

Time suddenly took on a tar-like thickness, and everything felt icy and suffocating at the same time. A strange, unfamiliar panic crawled up his spine until it tore at his throat.

 

From next to Yuuri, holding her own whole piece of autograph paper, Yuko gasped in horror and covered her mouth.

 

That broke the dam.

 

“Shit!” Takeshi cursed, unthinkingly throwing himself at the cauldron with full intention of jamming his hand in there to find the paper.  
  
Yuuri cried out in alarm, and threw his entire body at Takeshi, knocking him away from the bubbling pot of extremely acidic concoction.

 

Yuko whipped out her wand from her sleeve, and flicked it at the cauldron, desperately chanting summoning charms.

 

Nothing came back up. It’s impossible to use a summoning charm on something the caster cannot envision after all, even if there was any repairable part of the parchment left at all.

 

 

Acceptance of the situation was as prickling and gruesome as Takeshi feared. Yuuri was trying so hard to _not_ cry that he was physically vibrating, and Yuko rounded on him with a wand pointed dangerously at his eyebrows again.  
  
“TA- KE- SHI!” she screeched, with the combined fierceness of a mother griffin and a wronged banshee all in one, and Takeshi felt all the hairs in his body stand on end without her casting any hair removal hex on him at all.

 

“You see what you’ve done?! Why do you _always_ have to make fun of Yuuri! He got us autographs from _Viktor Nikoforov_!”  
  
There was no way his eyebrows will survive this, Takeshi inwardly conceded, but he was infinitely more concerned about the way Yuuri was still shaking in front of his cauldron and worrying his teeth into his bottom lip so hard he might bleed.  
  
“I’m so sorry, Yuuri,” he said, and he means it entirely. He had only been going about their usual routine of teasing Yuuri and Yuko about their infatuation on the Durmstrang star, especially since it had been so hilarious how Yuuri spent the whole morning and afternoon constantly grinning and even humming when he was making his potion. “You can hex me, do that weird one that makes people grow warts all over, you’re great at that one,” he suggested, gripping onto Yuuri’s shoulders once Yuko released him to go hug the youngest part of their trio.

 

Shit, Yuuri was actually crying now.

 

“Don’t cry, Yu-chan! Here, you can have my autograph, okay?” Yuko cried, aggressively wrapping her arms entirely around her friend, shoving her own copy of the autograph at Yuuri. “As punishment, Takeshi won’t have eyebrows forever!”

 

Takeshi nodded rapidly in agreement, fully okay with the sentence.  
  
A hiccup, but Yuuri forced out a wet laugh and shook his head, gently pushing Yuko and her offer back. “Thanks, Yuko-chan, but I’m okay,” he smiled. It’s wobbly, and his eyes are terribly red, but he’s clearly doing his best.  
  
He tossed one more wistful look at the cauldron, and sighed. “Maybe I’ll try to see if I can get a photo next time,” he mumbled. He had been unable to get that photo in the morning since he didn’t carry a camera with him, but he did manage to procure some paper for autographs for himself and Yuko. Yuko would have cried if he only got one for himself.

 

“I’ll ask Nobunari-senpai to borrow his camera later, okay Yu-chan? We will get you that picture,” Yuko declared, a blaze of determination alighting her face.

 

Yuuri was pretty sure that’s way too much trouble, bothering that many people, but he also knew better than to try and talk Yuko out of anything when she gets like that.

 

She always got like that whenever someone makes fun of him or Takeshi.

 

————————————————————————————

 

That evening, in a discreet corner of the Hogwarts library, safely hidden behind stacks of old grimoires and dusty scrolls, Viktor Nikiforov was accosted by a young Mahoutokoro student in salmon colored robes.

 

Startled, and definitely surprised that the child was basically breaching the curfew of the castle, he plastered on his polite smile and avoided staring at the boy’s face for too long.

 

The boy was much taller and stockier than young Yuuri he met this morning, with a strong jaw and a stronger intent in his presence.  
  
Still, if Viktor stared too long at the naked patches of stubbles over his brow bones he would definitely laugh, so he had to try really hard to stare at the boy’s ear instead when he faced him.  
  
“Can I help you?” he asked pleasantly.

 

“Viktor Nikoforov, I need you to do me a favor,” the boy spoke, his tone brusque and impatient, but not in the way Yakov is.   
  
The young boy looked nervous, maybe even uncomfortable, and he thrusted a slip of autograph paper at the Durmstrang wizard. “I’m Yuuri’s friend, I’m Takeshi Nishigori,” he grumbled stiffly in way of explanation, before adding a quick bow.  
  
“I messed up bad. I was being an idiot and I accidentally destroyed Yuuri’s autograph of you. I made Yuuri cry and I need you to make him feel better.”  
  
The boy- Takeshi, gestured at the autograph paper stubbornly, thrusting it further towards Viktor’s face.  
  
“I’ll owe you. I’m just a junior and I’m not going to help you get Mahoutokoro battle strategies or anything, but I’ll do whatever favor you need in return,” Takeshi continued, even as Viktor just stared at the paper.  


Yuuri had been crying? The helpful, cute little underclassman from Mahoutokoro hadn’t seem the type to easily cry, however hesitant his mannerisms are.  
  
Yuuri was _crying_ because he thought he lost the autograph from Viktor, even though it’s something that can be easily given again?  
  
Viktor felt an empathetic twinge in his chest, and he gently pushed the paper back.  


 

“Actually, I have a better idea,” he smiled, because he is Viktor Nikoforov, the bestest best ideas haver ever. 

 

————————————————————————————

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe. Eyebrows. Poof!


	3. The First Bolt Tastes Like Snowflakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note:
> 
> A happy belated 20 years anniversary for Harry Potter!   
> I do apologize for the unexpected delay between updates. I am afraid my real life situation is upsetting as of late and I have been unable to invest my time in anything for the last few weeks.   
> I am picking myself up now, and so will the friendship between young Yuuri and Viktor!

 

 

 

If asked, Mama Hiroko would let anyone know that Yuuri is not a difficult child at all.  
  
The pregnancy had been very mild compared to what she went through with her firstborn, Mari, but perhaps it was also due to the added experience. Birthing is an ordeal, sure, but it’s the before’s and after’s that make up the rough patches.   
  
But, Yuuri really was an easy baby. She hadn’t had many, if any cramps at all during the months leading up to labour, and the actual laboring period was short and relatively easy. The newborn slept so soundly the only time her baby son made a real fuss was when it was feeding time. Even as a little toddler, Yuuri was attached to the hem of her apron all the time and rarely wandered off. He was a sweet child, and did his best to be a good baby boy.

 

She loves her children equally, she does, but as Yuuri grew up in their traditional magical household, Hiroko grew concerned about him: Yuuri was _not_ a selfish child.

  
It seemed wrong for a parent to wish for their children’s selfishness, but Mari has her music and her demands to go to concerts in Tokyo in exchange for doing her chores properly, and she was not shy about making it clear what she wanted. On the other hand, Yuuri was always too content to stay behind and obediently help out at the onsen. The only real request he had ever made was to be able to take ice skating classes at the local rink, and even then Hiroko can’t really recall a time Yuuri would cut corners with his chores just to skate with his friends.

 

As a matter of fact, Yuuri didn’t have many friends growing up. Sure, there was Yuko-chan and Takeshi-kun, and… that might just be all.

 

 

 

Hiroko ran her fingers gently through the smooth, buttery feathers of the horned owl settled on the back of the kitchen chair. The bird hooted at her quietly, patiently, while her pen lingered over a half-written response letter for her son.   
  
Yuuri had made sure to send a letter to her the night they arrived safely at Hogwarts, already recounting all the memorable events with so much excitement that Hiroko felt rather glad she had decided to let Yuuri go in the first place. The International Wizarding Tournament, such a magnificent gathering for her little boy to participate in! It was very sweet for Minako-sensei to think of bringing her Yuuri and the other little ones along, despite their age. Truly, it’s the kind of special experience that comes rarely in a life time.   
  
Hogwarts is a very far away place, a new place. It would be nice if her little boy manages to make a few more friends along the way. 

 

Hiroko adjusted her glasses, and smiled down at the drowsy owl. “Let’s finish this letter and get you something to eat, yes?” 

 

————————————————————————————

 

 

The interior of Hogwarts castle is actually quite a bit smaller as compared to Mahoutokoro, Yuuri realized upon the second day upon his arrival. Though from the outside, the looming castle perched on top the slopping hills looked rather large. However, once he had done a few rounds of exploring with Yuko-chan and Takeshi, they realized that with the subtraction of the towers, Hogwarts castle is definitely smaller than the school building of Mahoutokoro. 

 

Maybe the reason lies in the fact that Mahoutokoro accommodates for students starting from age seven, while Hogwarts starts with the boarding age of eleven. 

 

Or maybe, there are other hidden rooms they have yet to discover.  
  
Out of the majority of the corridors he wandered into, Yuuri realized that most of them are classrooms of some sort. That was a surprise, as Mahoutokoro has as many recreational rooms and chambers as there are learning halls, a stark difference compared to Hogwarts where students tend to keep to their dormitories. 

 

During breakfast, Nobunari-senpai mentioned that a majority of the emptied classrooms on the sixth floor are now open for foreign students to do their lessons in, as many of them will still be taking their own curriculums throughout the year. Minako-sensei had made it clear that those of them currently in the dance and music classes must keep up with self-practice even without her tutelage. 

 

So during his free period, which was intended for his Mahoutokoro classes, Yuuri excused himself from the study hall to make for some practice time.

 

If he recalled correctly, the room that was converted into a dance studio through the efforts of Minako-sensei and Headmistress Baranovskaya is located at the end of the hallway of third floor, easily accessible directly from the exterior of the castle from the docked atakebune as well as the carriage. However, to access it from the fourth floor study hall was another story. 

 

So Yuuri packed his bag and went on a walk, fully intending to take in the antiqued atmosphere of the castle along the way.

 

 

Distracted but appreciative of the tranquil atmosphere during his brief walk, the brunet closed his eyes at one point to truly breathe in the dreamy, sleepy vibe in the corridors. The aged stone walls and floors were warmed by the streaming curtains of sunlight pouring through framed glass, and though the weather has grown chilly here in Scotland already, the air held no bite of cold at all. Birds flew quickly past the rows of windows, their shadows all but a momentary interruption of the warm light that slid along the walls like liquid, made Yuuri open his eyes again. Listening closely, he can hear the dim drone of the nearby lecture rooms, and smell the faint, but steady smell of sheepskin parchment…

 

He ended up drifting, taking far more time than necessary to reach the far end of the third floor corridors, but the settled calmness in his chest made it all worthwhile.

  
After the fiasco from last night, which he might or might not have cried himself to sleep over, it feels like these little moments of calm are such blessings.   
  


The weight of his bag, laden with his dance gear, was a bonus comfort as he arrived to the designated classroom. The bolded plaque of ‘3-D’ outside was replaced with a bronze plate in elegant script. 

 

‘ _Dance studio_ ’, it said in English, and though Yuuri could not recognize the wandwriting, he could recognize the familiar presence of Minako-sensei’s magic.

 

Her magic was everywhere in the construction of the interior: in the smooth walnut wood floor, the gorgeous walls of mirror and fractal crystals charmed to glow like a daydream from the ceiling. Even the barres looked just like the ones back home, and before he knew it Yuuri was changing into his dance gear with a big grin on his face. 

 

Smooth, magically waxed floors with nary a sign that anyone got to use it before him, beacons to Yuuri like a siren call. And who is he to deny the beautiful dance floor asking for a dancer?

 

Yuuri found himself happily carried into the familiar motions of warm-ups as he made sure to stretch out his muscles. An unfamiliar sleep schedule and new environment could easily unbalance his body before he realized it, and it never hurts to be more careful with the preparations.

 

Surrounded by calm, glowing lights and a hundred reflects of all his movements and gestures, Yuuri danced his heart out, and felt the final vestiges of gloom lifting from him entirely.  
  
It’s not like the ice, but the smooth floor is a second best for permitting his limbs to bleed his thoughts out into motion. A perfectly pointed toe, a picture of perfect relaxed grace for the anticipation of this journey. Crossed wrists, at rest, the helplessness of realities where no one was a fault.

 

A crisp glissade that sends him forward, remembering the naked patches of skin above Takeshi’s eyes as Yuko-chan screeched like an angry griffin, and Yuuri laughed into his next motions.

 

  
He’s not angry at Takeshi, not really. But maybe he is angry with himself for failing to catch the paper. Perhaps the anger is just a misplacement of grief. That certainly feels more likely.   
  
  
Yuuri has idolized Viktor Nikiforov since he was ten, when Yuko-chan first showed him a recording of a duel the Russian took part in to cheer him up.   
  
It had been a rough year for Yuuri, with his two best friends boarding at Mahoutokoro and leaving him alone in their little town of Hasetsu. Yuuri was accosted by loneliness he didn’t know he could feel, even though his parents have been accommodating, always ready to give him something to do to keep him busy when he’s home from day school.

 

Clutching the fabric of Yuko-chan’s viewing scroll tightly, Yuuri was dazzled by the beautiful but _powerful_ flashes of magic crashing on the arena. Violent bursts of ice fractures through the cracks of densely packed stone defenses, blue-green flames dancing like small birds as they honed in on their target. Immediately, Yuuri was charmed by Viktor’s performance.

 

Because that was what it was, it was too beautiful to be anything _but_ a performance, even as barely fourteen years old Viktor whipped and whirled about blades of ice and fire like some sort of fairy, tearing his way to a silver at the Junior level Dueling Championship for the European leg.   
  
It had been extremely impressive, which obviously sent both Yuuri and Yuko off running to the practice halls the next day to try and learn the spells they witnessed during the duel.

 

 

One day, Yuuri would like to do something impressive, something amazing enough that maybe Viktor would see him as more than just a young boy asking for an autograph.   


Maybe Viktor would see him as someone equal, someone that wasn’t so pathetic he’d lose the autograph just given to him, someone-

 

 

 

“Wow!”

 

————————————————————————————

 

 

Here are some well-known facts about Viktor Nikiforov:

 

  1. Viktor is one-fourth Veela, from his maternal grandmother’s side.
  2. His father, a dragon hunter, passed away shortly before he was born.
  3. He owns the world’s cutest poodle by the name of Makkachin. 
  4. He is the youngest Senior level Dueling Champion in the world.
  5. He loves surprises, and constantly uses surprise tactics to one-up his opponents.



 

Viktor likes to think that he keeps an amiable relationship with the media. He gives them whatever they’d like to impose on him, an image of the youngest, most chivalrous champion duelist in recent history, and in turn they spin nice stories about various things and leave him mostly in peace. 

 

He has done his best all these year to be the best that he can be, and given his immense talent since his early years, it was always a clear belief of Yakov’s that Viktor would go far.

 

But stories have two sides, maybe even four. And here are some facts about Viktor Nikiforov that almost no one knows (or chooses to forget):

 

  1. Viktor is a half-blood wizard. His father was muggleborn, and even until his deathbed, the marriage between his parents was not accepted by his maternal grandfather.
  2. As a junior level duelist, Viktor had never won gold.
  3. Despite being a Durmstrang student, Viktor spent more days in training than in his classes. It helps that his godfather is the headmaster and can arrange such things, but it ended with Viktor having scarcely any friends his age.
  4. The first time he surprised his family, with his gold medal at his debut senior level championship, his mother wove him an enchanted cloak. A family tradition.
  5. Viktor is unable to cast a Patronus charm.



 

 

————————————————————————————

 

 

 

Since the beginning, Viktor had it all planned out.   
  
He was first going to find Yuuri, surprise the boy with a brand new signed posture (of his most recent championship, because it’s not narcissism if the other party genuinely wants it, right?), and then invite the boy for a quick, private tour on the Durmstrang sea vessel. 

 

It had seemed like the ideal fan experience in Viktor’s opinion, though the only other opinion was Christophe’s cheerful agreement. He can’t really imagine a fan that won’t thoroughly enjoy the treatment, not to mention to get to see the interior of the Durmstrang vessel, which is a bit of a stingy secret Yakov likes to keep. 

 

 

However, things didn’t go as planned.

 

According to young Takeshi, whose eyebrows are still tragically absent during tea time, young Yuuri generally stays with other junior level Mahoutokoro students at the fourth floor study hall during their free period. That would have been the perfect chance to initiate his amazing plan.

 

If he managed to find Yuuri, that is. 

 

When he went to sought Yuuri out, shortly after witnessing the procession of fluttering pink to champagne robes depart from the Great Hall, he came upon the study hall where a small, adorable group of junior students are all chanting spells in Japanese and flapping their fans at a nearby vase.

 

There was no Yuuri in sight, and when he questioned the older Mahoutokoro students present, he was sent off the the third floor studio room instead. 

 

 

Apparently instead of spending it in the study hall, Yuuri had gone off to dance on his own. 

 

 

“It’s something Yuuri likes to do to get his head back in place,” Yuko had told him, looking like she can barely contain her excitement as she gazed up at him with starstruck eyes. “If you’re going to go see him, you should be very quiet. Yuuri is shy.”

 

 

Five minutes later, he found himself similarly starstruck as he hovered quietly just outside of classroom 3-D.

 

 

————————————————————————————

 

 

 

_When he was real little, every time his mother brought him to visit his babushka, they would go watch some sort of dance performance. His babushka and his mother always get free tickets from their friends and students in the owl post, and while wizard children his age would go off for Qudditch tournaments on the holidays from charm school, Viktor went to the Bolshoi Theatre instead._

 

_‘Dancing is the song of the spirit, and the body is the instrument, Vitenka,’ his babushka would murmur to him, while letting Viktor run his fingers through the magically preserved fabrics of her old silk slippers. The ribbons always felt like fabric ice as they slipped from his fingers._

 

_His mother was even more beautiful when she danced, though Viktor wouldn’t say that out loud in front of his babushka. His favorite performance of her had been the Swan Lake, the year she was titled the prima ballerina assoluta._

 

_It’s hard to explain exactly which part he liked best about her old performances. Perhaps it’s the way her body looked weightless amidst the dark backdrop of the stage, or the way the stage light itself turned into pearls on her finger tips. The staged moonlight seemed to always suspend just along her fingertips as she gracefully danced across old photographs, like the world was not real, and the stage was more than a fleeting dream._

 

_She didn’t perform in the muggle showings with magic, but there was definitely something there._

 

 

————————————————————————————

 

 

 

At age sixteen, Viktor finally understood why his grandmother had told him that he danced like ‘a swan given the script to dance like a swan’ when he was a child.

 

When Yuuri danced, there was no swan, there was no dance, or even music. They seemed so irrelevant when the Japanese boy spun and glided across the floor, because somehow, the whole thing was a complete performance in itself. 

 

Like light had forgotten its vector trajectory, distracted and attracted to the outlines of the small body flinging himself against all resistance forces. Pearls and moonlight, and it takes Viktor’s breath away and held it there at the bottom of his suddenly too-heavy heart.

 

The studio was silent saved for the sound of Yuuri’s body flowing like water, bending the very atmosphere in the room until it felt like even the air was bending at his will. And yet, watching the way Yuuri’s curves tensed and relaxed with artistic grace, Viktor can almost hear a melody playing in the back of his mind. For a boy that small, a dancer’s body so young, Yuuri moves with a grace unfathomable to Viktor. 

 

Sure, he can tell that Yuuri’s ballet was far from technical perfection, but there was something else in his dancing. Something _magic_ and _powerful_ , and it reminded Viktor too much of the stacks of old photographs in a shoebox under his mother’s bed.

 

 

The boy leapt, and for a moment Viktor could taste the joy, the innocent cheer the boy’s entire body was expressing, like a first snowflake of winter thawing on his tongue.

 

 

It fascinated him. _Yuuri_ fascinated him, and suddenly he wanted to learn more about this boy.

 

 

 

 

“Wow!” he breathed, feeling like all the air had been knocked out of him. 

 

 

 

Or perhaps his perspective finally knocked back into alignment. Ten years from now, he might even admit that this was a bit of a religious experience. 

 

 

In a flash, Yuuri fumbled out of his landing and whirled around so violently to the door that Viktor thought he heard something crack, but he didn’t back away. Instead, he entered the door and started clapping, because he knows that a good performance (however unintentional), deserves its applause. 

 

“That was very impressive! How long have you been dancing, Yuuri?” Viktor praised, when he finished clapping and little Yuuri’s face had switched rapidly between an alarming red to a concerning pale. 

 

“W-what- how long have you been standing there?” 

 

“Not too long, but long enough that I got to witness your amazing dancing, Yuuri.”

 

Yuuri looked like he can’t decide between fainting or running away, and that puzzled Viktor. 

  
Was he unwelcome here? Yuuri’s friends did mention that the boy likes to dance alone to recollect himself, had Viktor intruded upon that moment of private solitude?

 

Before his thoughts could go down further, Yuuri shook his head almost aggressively.   
  
“I’m not that good!” Yuuri insisted, clutching at the hem of his black shirt tightly, but he didn’t look like he’s about to bolt anymore. “I- I have been taking classes from Minako-sensei since I was little. She teaches dance at Mahoutokoro. She is famous.” 

 

Viktor might have heard something or another about Headmistress Okukawa’s history related to the arts, but honestly he can’t remember much about it at this moment. Was that the reason Lilia waited for the Mahoutokoro group when they first arrived?

 

It adds up, and Viktor nodded along like he knew what Yuuri was talking about, while running a hand distractedly through his loose fringes.   
  
Then he caught Yuuri staring, and that actually helped him remember his purpose. 

 

With a wide grin, Viktor procured the parcel he had brought with him from just under the lapel of his red cloak. The young brunet’s warm eyes darted instantly to the object, curious, but politely silent. 

 

“Oh yes! I have a gift for you, Yuuri,” he exclaimed happily, watching the younger boy’s eyes widen in curiosity as he passed the parcel over. Yuuri’s small hands gripped onto the package as though it might break at the slightest touch. “I heard from a little bird, or well— a friend of yours, that you weren’t feeling well. And it just wouldn’t do if my little Mahoutokoro friend is sad, right?”   
  
With a sense of almost-smug satisfaction, Viktor watched the young brunet slid a finger under the taped down folds of brown wrapping paper to neatly take it apart. Yuuri’s brows were furrowed in concentration as he unwrapped the gift, but with conflicted expressions flickering over his face that varied between ‘wait, _friend_?’, to ‘for me?’

  
It really was amazing how expressive Yuuri could be, and Viktor has a feeling it wasn’t just because the other wizard was younger. 

 

 

“I-” Yuuri started, chewing his bottom lip nervously even as he delicately peeled the paper apart. Viktor noticed that he didn’t tear anything, not even the tape, as compared to his own style of ‘dig until you see the bottom’ method. 

 

“I don’t know what to say… was it Yuko-chan, or Takeshi?” he asked quietly, his voice dropping to a reverent hush as he recognized the kind of tube-shaped paper container underneath the wrapping. It was a poster canister, and with a tiny little gasp, Yuuri opened it up and slid the poster free.  
Yuuri’s eyes were glimmering like the crystals hanging above their heads, and his cheeks flushed adorably in excitement as he unrolled the poster to review a picture of Viktor from his latest dueling championship from the container. The poster contained an enchanted image of Viktor, dressed in his dashing blue scale armor-costume for the duel, waving cheerily at the camera and occasionally winking as he displayed his gleaming gold trophy.   
  
Poster Viktor made eye contact with Yuuri’s excited face, winked, and then blew a flirty little kiss at the boy.

 

The sound Yuuri made afterwards could’ve shattered some mirrors and Viktor wouldn’t even be surprised.

 

 

————————————————————————————

 

 

It was the middle of the afternoon and Christophe was contemplating a nap before his evening class, but then, the Durmstrang sea vessel got an unexpected visitor.

 

The little Mahoutokoro student that Viktor snuck on board looked a bit like he might faint or burst from excitement, his eyes sparkling as he took in everything around him with fervent awe.

 

Mind, it was really adorable watching Viktor’s version of stealthy. The two of them creeping behind random furniture pieces of hallways as though they were playing some sort of game. It was a lucky shot for the two of them that Headmaster Feltsman had went off to have a meeting with the other headmasters for the afternoon, or Viktor would have gotten chewed out for certain.

 

As a matter of fact, if Headmaster Feltsman found out that Viktor still hasn’t carved his name onto the Tablet of Destiny yet, Viktor will also get chewed out.

 

Most of the things Viktor does gets him chewed out. It’s Viktor.

 

“And here is the common room for the ship! We have another one in the level below this, by our canteen, but this one has the best seats,” Viktor crowed proudly, gesturing to the Art Nouveau styled interior around them. 

 

The small wizard next to him took in the marble carved wall pieces that entwined as one around the common room, until ending in a gaping opening that was their fireplace, and ‘wow’d quietly under his breath. “This is very cool, Viktor, but are you sure it’s okay to bring me here?” the boy asked, eyes flicking around distractedly at the various doorways around the room. 

 

“Nonsense, I promised you a tour, and you will get a tour! No one is here, so it’s fine!”

 

That was the perfect moment to make his presence known. Hanging out with Viktor for so long has taught Christophe a few thing about dramatic entrances, and the purpose of suspense.

 

“And I suppose I’m supposed to keep my silence on this matter?” Christophe purred, putting his book down on the cushy sofa. He smiled to himself when both Viktor and the young Mahoutokoro student startled upon the realization that the common room wasn’t empty.   
  
Within the nameless black sea vessel that has served as the Durmstrang transport for many centuries, just underneath the enchanted deck, lies a series of winding pathways that lead to the various bedrooms and common areas shared by the Durmstrang representatives. While Hogwarts has opened all their facilities to accommodate for the foreign students suddenly added into their mix, it can still get crowded inside the castle. Chris has no idea how Viktor thought that nobody would be in the sea vessel at all.  
  
Though he enjoys attention, it got a bit overwhelming for even Chris when he couldn’t even study in peace without some students asking him if he could pass on fan letters for Viktor. 

 

“What do we have here?” Chris chuckled quietly, casually walking over to the little visitor once Viktor relaxed back into his usual easy smile. “Please don’t tell me you’ve really kidnapped one of the little ones, Viktor. You know Yakov won’t approve.” 

 

For all his guile, Viktor just laughed, and just ushered the small boy forward. “Of course I didn’t kidnap Yuuri here, he’s a new friend! Isn’t that right? Yuuri, this is my best friend Christophe.”  
  
The small boy, Yuuri, flicked his doe-like eyes back and forth in uncertainty during the short exchange, immediately took to the cue of bowing deeply at Chris.   
  
“I’m Yuuri, Katsuki Yuuri, sorry for the intrusion!” the child flustered, and it was so endearing that Chris just _had_ to tease a little.   
  
Reaching over, Chris wasted no time in pulling the small boy into a quick hug, coupled with a cheek kiss that sent the boy flushing instantly. “Oh dear, aren’t you just the cutest little wizard!” he enthused, releasing Yuuri only when the boy turned a satisfying shade of crimson.   
  
Oh that’s right, Easterners are shyer about this stuff, aren’t they?  
  
“I’m Christophe Giacometti, but you can just call me Chris,” he grinned, watching the boy clutch tightly onto the silky fabric of his own chest like his heart might escape otherwise. Upon a closer inspection, the Mahoutokoro robe really is a beautiful garment. The color gradient between pale pink to pale peach was almost shimmering underneath the boy’s fingers, like it’s alive. 

 

Before Chris can ask any questions about how the uniform works, however, Viktor stepped in to rescue the embarrassed wizard.   
  
“Alright, alright. You can harass dear Yuuri at a later time, Chris. But I’ve got to finish giving Yuuri the tour and send him back before dinner time,” Viktor explained, giving Chris a subtle nod before steering Yuuri to the nearest hidden passage way.  


Viktor placed a hand on the edge of a painting with a prancing fat cat, and paused.   
  
“Oh yeah, if Yakov asks about the tablet, just make up some stuff or say you don’t know, okay?” 

 

Then he pulled the painting sideways until it slid along the wall, revealing a doorway where he and Yuuri marched off into. Chris could hear a quiet little ‘bye Chris!’ from the other end before the portrait slid back with a soft ‘click’.

 

Only then, did Christophe afford a quiet laugh of exasperation. Honestly, did Viktor really think that Yakov won’t suspect anything? He just hoped that whatever Viktor has planned to ‘make a show’ of submitting his name to the tablet won’t end up with him getting some sort of punishment again.

 

Oh well, Viktor probably knows what he is doing. Or at least, even if he didn’t, somehow he would pull off a lucky break and things would work out anyways. 

 

Chris sighed, rolled his shoulders as he wandered to a different passageway. He should probably get that nap in now, and contemplated on stealing little Yuuri away from Viktor another time. He _simply_ has to dress the kid up one day, it would be criminal not to take advantage of that level of cuteness. 

 

————————————————————————————

 

The tour had been really fun, possibly the most fun Yuuri has had since they got to Hogwarts. Though there was the nagging concern that he _wasn’t_ supposed to see the interior of the black sea vessel at all, Viktor had dragged him around sneaking and running like an elaborate game of hide-and-seek. 

 

It was certainly entertaining to have Viktor lead him through the various parts of the ship, retelling stories of what had happened to different members of the Durmstrang representatives during their journey to Scotland, and the silver haired Russian would exaggerate the voices and gestures so much he reduced Yuuri to a giggling mess.

 

After sputtering into surprised laughter at another one of Viktor’s dramatic reenactment while they stood on the deck, near the end of their tour, Yuuri realized that he was no longer nervous around Viktor.

  
Certainly, Viktor is and always will be his idol in some regards, but after watching _the_ Viktor Nikiforov lay down dramatically over the top of some railings just to emphasize how annoying his schoolmate can be, Yuuri realized that he will never be able to unsee the honestly really dorky side of his… new friend.   
  
Oh shrieking occamies! He made friends with Viktor Nikiforov! How on Earth did that even happen? 

 

 

“Hey… Viktor?” Yuuri started, after laughingly helping Viktor back up to his feet from where he was sprawled over yet another railing. “What did you mean earlier, when you were saying something about the tablet with Chris?” 

 

The Russian dusted himself off, and grinned a secretive smile. “Oh, it’s just our headmaster being a nag and trying to get everyone to put their names on the Tablet of Destiny as soon as possible,” he said dismissively, fixing his robes first and then his hair.   
  
Yuuri frowned a little. “You still haven’t entered your name?” he asked, surprised because all the Mahoutokoro representatives that are of age already entered their names. In fact, they all did that the morning after the announcement, much to the excitement of the witnessing Hogwarts students. “Are you not planning on participating?”   
  
That hadn’t make sense to Yuuri. Clearly the purpose of Viktor coming here to Hogwarts would be to participate. If Durmstrang managed to get Viktor as one of their chosen trios for the coming tournaments, their chances for winning against many of the obstacles would be much higher. Especially anything involving dueling or magical combat. 

 

Plus, he’d really like to watch Viktor compete, his own loyalty to Mahoutokoro aside.

 

“Aw, are you worried? Don’t be, I’m going to get it done before the week’s over,” Viktor laughed, light-hearted as usual. “I just wanted to… make it special, that’s all. It’s so _boring_ to just enter my name and wait, wouldn’t it be more fun to make a big show first? Like, psychological warfare or something.”   
  
Except, having known Viktor properly for about an hour, Yuuri managed to grasp some nuances of the Russian wizard’s personality. 

 

“You mean, you want everyone watching you and be dazzled while you enter your name,” he reiterated, a tiny smile on his lips. “You do realize it will be very embarrassing if you did all that, but the tablet didn’t choose you for your team, right? You don’t know what standards they’re choosing the teams by. You might not cut it.”  
  
Viktor stood in silence for a moment, and Yuuri raised an eyebrow. 

 

 

Oh.

 

 

_Oh_ , Viktor did _not_ think about that, and Yuuri bursted out laughing again at the older wizard’s face.

 

“ _Yuuuuuuri_! That’s so mean, why would you say that, now I’m going to be thinking about this all day!” came Viktor’s whiny voice, even while Yuuri was trying to stifle his laughter in his sleeves.   


  
When he composed himself, he looked up at Viktor with twinkling eyes.

 

 

 

“ _Psychological warfare_ , remember?” 

 

 

————————————————————————————

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I made this chapter a little longer than usual to make up for the delay. c:   
> As usual, reviews and criticisms would be greatly appreciated. I am also willing to take ideas from the readers on exactly how 'extra' Viktor should be when submitting his name onto the tablet!

**Author's Note:**

> My work is not beta'd and I regret my inconsistent writing style. I'm open to constructive criticism as well as feedback from anyone.  
> Additional note: Unfortunately my life got wobbly, I am unsure of the posting schedules anymore.  
> I hope you have enjoyed this read so far. :D


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